[hider=Yorsiccos]
[indent][indent]
[right][color=ff471a][h3][b]0[/b][/h3][/color][/right]
[/indent][/indent]
[color=D2B48C][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][center][b][h1]Yorsiccos[img]image URL to accompany name[/img][/h1][/b][/center][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[center]______________________________________________________________________________________
[sub][i]"I don't care if it's shiny, or even useful. If it's interesting, I want it."[/i][/sub]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/750x/93/73/1f/93731f034f839421712fac1818cb4eb8.jpg[/img]
______________________________________________________________________________________[/center][/color]
[center][sup][color=0073e6][i]XP[/i][/color] • [color=99ccff][b]0,000[/b][/color]   [color=cc9900][i]Gold[/i][/color] • [color=ffdf80][b]0[/b][/color][/sup][/center]
[indent][indent]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Race / Species[/i][/b][/color] Mormagi[/h3][/cell]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Sex[/i][/b][/color] ♂[/h3][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Appearance[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]He's 5'11 tall, though hunching makes him seem a bit less than that. He's extremely thin, and kind of gangly. Most glaringly, his flesh is discouloured, his appearance that of a rotting decaying corpse. His legs and the left side of his torso still have signs of being burned in the past. His skin has a dry feel to it; any puss that may be leaking occasionally is simply due to unhealed wounds. He has no hair, his teeth are yellowed (some are missing), his nails have signs of being bitten often, his cuticles are likely permanently damaged. His hands have plenty of small scars and nicks. His whole body is littered with puncture marks - signs that he's doing his best to keep his body from literally falling apart, but it's a constant struggle.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Age[/i][/b][/color] 117[/h3][/cell]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Voice[/i][/b][/color] Like ancient parchment: soft spoken, raspy, dry, and scratchy as if with disuse. [/h3][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Trade[/i][/b][/color] Collector[/h3][/cell]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Skills[/i][/b][/color] [color=C0C0C0][b]Long "Life"[/b][/color] | [color=A0522D][b]Craftsmanship 1[/b][/color] | ---[/h3][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Quirks[/i][/b][/color][/h3][sub]Talking to himself and non-sentient beings. Biting his nails, picking at his cuticles. Suturing his own wounds whenever limb-loss or major skin-loss seems likely to occur, taking the stitches out whenever he manages to heal naturally.
[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Interests[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]Treasure. Junk. Items. Possessions. Finding things. Collecting things. Crafting things. Dismantling things. Finding out how things work. Inconveniencing day-dwellers without them realizing who the culprit is.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Disgusts[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]Daylight. Daydwellers. The full moon. Getting lost. Crowds. Loud noises. Disruptions. Intruders that try to appropriate [i]his[/i] territory, even if they only do so for a night. [/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]History[/i][/b][/color][/h3][sub]Born as a Stodman more than a century ago in Gillsommr, the now Mormagi had been but a young boy at the time, an orphan who earned his bread and butter as a servant for families both able and willing to afford to pay to a no-name urchin. In a bid for higher rewards in exchange for higher risks, the boy had joined several army expeditions as a teen - despite his lack of combat skills, there [i]were[/i] groups willing to pay him to do a range of jobs (menial or even slightly risky, such as scouting), whether because the militia and the mercenaries were too preoccupied with the actual fighting or simply unwilling to perform the tasks they'd hired him to do. They boy had learned to clean well, cook decently, do minor repairs, scout for enemies, look after the horses, sharpen the weapons and polish the armour. 

But mainly, he had learned how to look after himself and how to avoid being taken advantage of. There wasn't anyone he trusted besides himself (and sometimes not even that - he knew he could get himself in trouble due to his sticky fingers), and he had no particular goals beyond survival. He would admit that he was a coward back then. And despite his caution, he was struck by a stray arrow, left to die in a ditch. His death was slow and painful, but if he'd had time for thought beyond the endless pain and horror, he most likely wouldn't find any regrets. No, there were none, because he'd lived the only way he knew how to. Though he'd died barely after reaching his majority, he'd be content with what he'd had if he'd known what the alternative was. 

The alternative, as it turned out, was undeath. He'd been thrown into a mass grave, been struck there by the Skalgwordh virus, and returned to...a form of life, if it could be called that. There had been pain, then insensate blackness, then the stench of death, the sight of corpses in various stages of decay, all crowding an enormous hole and afire. When the boy awoke, he felt strangely stiff, but not dead. No, death hadn't claimed him, though it was certainly close to doing so. The blaze was devouring the corpses. It had almost devoured him as well. 

As it was, the boy had awoken just in time to feel the fire beginning to wrap around and cling to him. He made a desperate, frenzied escape. The boy crawled out of the grave, and was met with the solitude of night. There were no others travelling at night time. He ventured onward unperturbed, stumbling and falling over several times, but he always picked himself up, scrapes ignored. He had managed to put out the fire and survive again. Now, he was heading somewhere. It turned the somewhere was a deep-reaching maze of a cave system. He entered the caverns, weaving his way from passage to passage, tunnel to tunnel, venturing deeper and deeper, drawn into the abyss. Despite the complete darkness, he managed to navigate well.

Hours and hours later, he came upon a beautiful cave lake. He collapsed by it, his body rattling oddly, and drank from its depths. Once he had his fill of the water, he glanced at the lake, and he saw his own reflection. He was enraptured. No, he was horrified. Dazed. Stunned. Disbelieving. Wondering. Accepting. The initial self-disgust he'd felt had been muted, as if his humanity had been snuffed out alongside his change of appearance. Was it because his brain had begun to rot? Was there something intrinsically different about him now? He didn't know. He didn't wonder long. Whatever he was now, he would do the one thing he clearly remembered desiring to do - survive. 

He wandered his cave system, getting lost for the following few decades, but patient enough to explore the existing pathways, and digging some new ones of his own. He made his home within the caverns, and was eventually so familiar with them he was able to get in and out of them easily. And although he'd developed the patience of a mountain, he was getting bored. For the first time ever, he wanted more than the barest survival. He wanted to enjoy life, even if the joy he felt was a dull mockery in comparison to what daydwellers experienced. 

And so, he begun collecting things. He wandered outside during the night, never too far. He collected all kinds of strange little things. Things left, forgotten, or abandoned by Stodmen. On rare occasions, things 'stolen' from a Stodman junkyard. A memorable time or two the Mormagi even managed to nick a little something from the rare Stodman who wandered into his cave to explore or rest. He became the Collector. He remembered some Stodmen knowledge, and named himself anew. He made goals: items he wanted to find, items he wanted to dismantle, and most importantly, items he wanted to repair or items he wanted to create.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[center][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Traits[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[indent][list]
[*] [color=87CEEB][b]Intellect:[/b][/color] [color=4169E1]Stubborn.[/color] Character is closed to most new ideas and changes.
[*] [color=9932CC][b]Openness:[/b][/color] [color=D8BFD8]Realistic.[/color] Character enjoys how things are, but can appreciate some forms of art and new concepts.
[*] [color=B22222][b]Motivation:[/b][/color] [color=CD5C5C]Reliable.[/color] Character is motivated and active, capable of self-control.
[*] [color=FFE4B5][b]Temper:[/b][/color] [color=FFFACD]Meek.[/color] Character is passive and mildly empathetic, lacking consideration, trust, and tending to lie, be passive aggressive, or play devil's advocate.
[*] [color=D2691E][b]Emotional Stability:[/b][/color] [color=F4A460]Easy-going.[/color] Character has expectations regarding others and has good emotional control as long as those expectations are met. [/list][/indent]
[center][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Clothes & Equipement[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[indent][list]
[*] Black hood.
[*] Old black woolen cloak.
[*] A faded gray long-sleeved shirt.
[*] A worn brown leather vest.
[*] Bandages on his hands and forearms.
[*] Dark gray cloth trousers, with multi-colored patches covering up holes.
[*] A belt made up of multiple ropes braided and tied together.
[*] Bandages on his calves and feet.
[*] Faded and worn brown leather boots.
[*] A leather cord necklace that he keeps his needles tied to.
[/list][/indent][center][h3][color=D2B48C][b][i]Inventory[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[indent][list]
[*] A (scavenged, old, but sturdy) metal flask containing carefully collected oil.
[*] Lots and lots of catgut thread.
[*] Five needles of different sizes (slightly rusty, but still sharp).
[*] Several cleaning rags (fashioned from old clothing).
[*] A steel knife with a leather-wrapped wooden handle.
[*] A hatchet.
[*] A large (often patched) cloth sack for carrying stuff around in.
[*] Rope (usually used to wrap around and carry his sack).
[*] Broken pieces of an abandoned gittern (only its nuts, though rusty, seem like they [i]might[/i] be reused).
[/list][/indent]
[hr][hr]
[/indent][/indent]
[/hider]

[hider=Jasilkal]
[indent][indent]
[right][color=ff471a][h3][b]0[/b][/h3][/color][/right]
[/indent][/indent]
[color=66CDAA][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][center][b][h1]Jasilkal[img]image URL to accompany name[/img][/h1][/b][/center][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[center]______________________________________________________________________________________
[sub][i]"There is always more to learn, more to discover. Now, if I only devised a way to prolong life..."[/i][/sub]

[img]https://i.pinimg.com/564x/02/ab/2b/02ab2b28850747aec0fa26eda3554665.jpg[/img]
______________________________________________________________________________________[/center][/color]
[center][sup][color=0073e6][i]XP[/i][/color] • [color=99ccff][b]0,000[/b][/color]   [color=cc9900][i]Gold[/i][/color] • [color=ffdf80][b]0[/b][/color][/sup][/center]
[indent][indent]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Race / Species[/i][/b][/color] Occ[/h3][/cell]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Sex[/i][/b][/color] ♀[/h3][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Appearance[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]Jasilkal is 310 centimeters (10'2) tall, and 590 centimeters (19'4) long. Her skin-tone ranges from pale-green (her face) to a deep dark forest green (mostly her back), with grayish-green spots scattered on her shoulders, back, and thighs. Her irises are pools of molten gold. Jasilkal has a delicate snout, and like most of her race, possesses two long fangs that can be used to inject venom through - though she personally doesn't have fully-developed venom glans yet. Her head and neck ridges are a grayish-green to soot dark gray in colour.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Age[/i][/b][/color] 20[/h3][/cell]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Voice[/i][/b][/color] Mocha-esque: somewhat deep, smooth, and soothing.[/h3][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Trade[/i][/b][/color] Alchemist[/h3][/cell]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Skills[/i][/b][/color] [color=2E8B57][b]Nature 1[/b][/color] | [color=FFD700][b]Alchemy 1[/b][/color] | ---[/h3][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Quirks[/i][/b][/color][/h3][sub]Flicking tongue over her fangs. Tail twitching to tail lashing when nervous, frustrated, or angry. Hissing and baring her fangs when extremely offended. Writing a personal diary containing facts, ideas, rambling thoughts, the occasional prose and poetry excerpts, complaints, achievements, and more.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Interests[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]Alchemy, potion making, ingredient gathering and preparations, witchery (rituals, spells, enchantments etc.), medicine and healing, making discoveries, reading, writing (esp. own research), learning, stories and story-telling, fame.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Disgusts[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]Stodmen, anyone unwilling to share knowledge, those resistant to reason and/or unbelieving of facts, anyone dismissive of knowledge and intelligence (but especially, anyone dismissive of her contributions), lack of common sense.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[table]
[row]
[cell][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]History[/i][/b][/color][/h3] [sub]Born in Badlessi to Kaarmuken, her mother (an innkeeper and a businesswoman), and Jardaskul, her father (a guard, hunter, and fisherman), in a middle-sized settlement built next to a lake, with several hills no more than half a day's walk away. Jasilkal was named for the uniform pale green skin-tone she was born with and the hints of jade supposedly seen in her eyes. She was an only child (until her 5th year, when she got an adopted younger brother), but with the Occ practice of community rearing, she was never deprived of company. However, she was the type of child who preferred solitude, or at the very least, enjoyed solitary pursuits. When the others collected plants because they found them pretty or wanted to gift them to someone, Jasilkal gathered them for herself, to study their medical uses. While many children were resistant to learning, and were simply in awe of the shamans, physician, and doctors, but kept at a distance from them, Jasilkal was voracious for knowledge, and did all she could to get close to those possessing medicinal expertise.

If the other children had their fun running freely in the grasslands or cooling down in the lake, she would spend it pestering adults with questions or curling up in a shaded corner to read whatever text happened to intrigue her. A rare thing she had in common with the other children was her love of stories, though her obsession with that drove her to memorize several of the tales, from the most popular to the most obscure, mystifying, and even some eerie ones. She wrote a story or two of her own, though her childish attempts at this weren't appreciated often. The first true friend she had found, a female by the name of Uruzik (four years older than Jasilkal), had been due to a shared love of story-telling. She wasn't as fond of exploring as some others, but did it for the sake of finding strange, intriguing ingredients. She took up all kinds of odd-work, as long as the work provided opportunity for her to learn anything healing-related. 

The one who was able to bring her out of her shell and more involved in the community life was her adopted younger brother (5 years her junior), Karjuuvos. Though he was the younger of the two, he took it upon himself to look after her, because while she wasn't willingly reckless, her curious nature could lead her to be unduly incautious when exploring, her intense focus on a certain goal at times making her completely unaware of other goings-on. Besides, having a younger brother made it easier for her to convince her father to take both her as well as her brother on a hunting expeditions; she went to collect the forest-endemic plants, and Karjuuvos so he could learn how to hunt. It was more-or-less a mutually beneficial deal, though obviously skewed in Jasilkal's favour, not that her brother minded much. This was only one of the many ways Jasilkal pursued what she was certain was her purpose, or at least part of it.

Though young, Jasilkal was eager to learn the basics of first aid, and was allowed by her village leaders to assist in the most basic of tasks (e.g. changing bandages, applying paste, keeping track of patients' medicine dosages etc.). She was ambitious, and secretly somewhat exasperated that they wouldn't let her learn more sooner, feeling particularly patronized whenever the adults fussed how she was too young to see the cruelties of the world or some such rot. As far as she was concerned, they needn't had worried. Yet, to get what she desired, she mostly kept her head down, and proved through actions that she was capable of more. (Thankfully, some of the adults saw her passion as a sign of maturity, and encouraged her - her parents included.) Whenever she was frustrated by a lack of progress, bored by the menial work, or simply struck by a fancy, she took the time off to listen to another story, retell one to the younger children, or pour her woes into her diary.

Even her fascination with stories, however, was nothing compared to her obsession with medicine, herbalism, and witchery. These were the things she desired to learn above all others, and she worked hard to get them. She managed to finagle an apprenticeship to a crotchety old alchemist living two or so miles out of the village (at the base of the nearest hill), close enough to trade easily, but far enough not to be disturbed too often. She worked on ingredient collection, preparation, and as a fetch-girl for Master Makumu, and picked up alchemy mainly from observation, though immersing herself in the books he possessed and assisting him with the occasional experiment certainly helped. 

Jasilkal was deemed ready by Makumu to start her own practice at 18, four years after starting her apprenticeship. She had her very own sod hut built, right next to her ex-Master's, because though she would now be officially independent, she was still an associate of his. He was one of the most anti-social Occ Elders, so she would still do some small tasks for him in exchange for rare ingredients or a helping hand for a large-scale experiment. Besides, he still hadn't taught her Atermagia, claiming she hadn't been born with the talent, and so should simply focus solely on alchemy instead - a sentiment Jasilkal still doesn't agree with, and intends to change Makumu's mind on. In the two years since achieving the equivalent of a Journeyman's status, she's been building her reputation in her village and the surrounding Occ settlements, but she's always seeking further opportunities.[/sub][/cell]
[/row]
[/table]
[center][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Traits[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[indent][list]
[*] [color=4169E1][b]Intellect:[/b][/color] [color=87CEEB]Idealistic.[/color] Character keeps a free mind, but believes in set possibilities.
[*] [color=FFE4B5][b]Openness:[/b][/color] [color=FFFACD]Speculative.[/color] Character enjoys artful recombination and [s]simple[/s] intellectual discourse.
[*] [color=B22222][b]Motivation:[/b][/color] [color=CD5C5C]Spontaneous.[/color] Character is mildly motivated but prefers impulsive pleasure to labor.
[*] [color=D2691E][b]Temper:[/b][/color] [color=F4A460]Sympathetic.[/color] Character is empathetic and cooperative, but not overly considerate or trusting, seeking their own brand of social harmony.
[*] [color=9932CC][b]Emotional Stability:[/b][/color] [color=D8BFD8]Fickle.[/color] Character becomes distraught in high-intensity scenarios and tends to bottle their feelings, resulting in outbursts.
[/list][/indent]
[center][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Clothes & Equipement[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[indent][list]
[*] A skull headdress adorned with feathers, fur, and bones.
[*] A red triangular shawl.
[*] A loose pale-gray shirt.
[*] Depending on her work, she may wear gloves. 
[*] A dark gray skirt with a long brown stripe and a short red stripe in front.
[*] Black leather belt fitted with pockets for vials.
[*] Black leather boots.
[*] Bone necklace.
[*] Apparel idea borrowed from [url=https://www.deviantart.com/shagan-fury/art/Dullahan-concept-2-276501563]this[/url].
[/list][/indent]
[center][h3][color=66CDAA][b][i]Inventory[/i][/b][/color][/h3][/center]
[indent][list]
[*] Two steel knives (she keeps more at home).
[*] A trowel.
[*] A flask of alcohol for disinfection.
[*] A brown leather satchel containing a basic first-aid kit (bandages, gauze, suturing equipment, a calming drug).
[*] A leather belt made specifically to carry vials in. She keeps several vials on her, some full (stomach soother, coagulation enhancer, a general but relatively weak anti-venin, feverfew extract) and some empty.
[*] Several cloth pouches to carry minerals or whole plants in.
[*] A glass epruvete with carefully sealed liquid mercury inside.
[*] Two small wooden jars: one containing pure powdered sulfur, the other regular table salt.
[*] A tinderbox containing a fire striker, flint, and tinder.
[/list][/indent]
[hr][hr]
[/indent][/indent]
[/hider]